


The Space Between

by TwoGunRose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkwardness, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Game of Thrones References, Game of Thrones-esque, Inspired by Game of Thrones, King's Landing (A Song of Ice and Fire), Loss of Virginity, Mild Sexual Content, Secret Crush, Shyness, Slow Build, Winterfell (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoGunRose/pseuds/TwoGunRose
Summary: Sansa is the newest addition to the Red Keep staff. It's her job to know everyone and ensure that they perform their roles and duties so that the Red Keep continues to function smoothly. However, when she becomes hopelessly lost in the vast maze of rooms and hallways one evening, a mysterious, reclusive man comes to her rescue. His name is Sandor Clegane and he is the caretaker of the Red Keep.Only two others know of his existence. He hides away from the world choosing to live vicariously through others as he witnesses their lives by creeping through the secret passages and looking through the peepholes.Sansa becomes friends with the quiet hermit who refuses to show his face to her. As their relationship develops, Sandor realizes that he's tired of hiding, being friendless, and alone. Sansa could be his one chance to experience the world, and love, the way he has always dreamed of.That is, if they can build a bridge across the space between them, that will survive their differences.
Relationships: Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Oberyn Martell/Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	1. Who's Who

Sansa smoothed out the pleats of the heavy brocade fabric that cascaded to the floor and pooled around her ankles. The dress was far heavier than she anticipated. She supposed she would get used to the weight of it after wearing it for awhile. It was a burden only in its weight. The beautiful expensive fabrics made her feel like a true Lady, like royalty, like a queen.

She admired herself in the full length mirror. The carefully stitched silk and taffeta skirt had been quilted in a diamond pattern, bedecked with pearls and braided metallic trims in silver and gold. The bodice was a little bit too tight, but she liked how the form-fitted velvet corset accentuated her narrow waist and lifted her breasts seductively.

Sansa twisted to the side in an attempt to see every angle of herself in this exquisite gown. The dress was officially hers, to be worn only by her and no one else. She sighed wishing she had a more intricate hairstyle to complete the look.

Over the past few years, her hair had turned darker. It was now a shade of dark auburn that was far more attractive than the red of her youth which had been too bright for her taste. For the first time in her life, Sansa could look in the mirror and have confidence in her appeal toward the opposite sex. That sort of confidence was new to her. Now that her body had matured, she actually liked what she saw.

"Sansa, I'm afraid we won't have time today to give you a proper coif." Sansa turned to see Cersei glide into the room. She was sure the older woman must have been wearing roller-skates under her gown in order to be able move across a room like that. The woman was all grace and refinement and sophistication at a level that Sansa would never be able to achieve.

Sansa stepped down from the padded modeling stool, watching Cersei as she darted about the room tidying fabrics and scarves, hats, and accessories. The room was filled to the brim with dresses and cloaks in a multitude of colors and fabrics. There were shoes and purses and elaborate hair accessories – tiaras and combs and pins and strings of pearls and long, flamboyant feathers. Rolls of fabric were propped in corners and lay across long cutting tables. A lonely dress form stood in the corner with a half-completed gown skirt pinned to it.

"Do you like the dress?" Cersei asked, floating toward her. Cersei's gown was dark navy blue, with a high collar, straight skirt, and long, narrow sleeves. The neckline was rather plain except for a simple, but elegant row of tiny beads sewn at the edge. Her long blonde hair was coiled on top of her head and pinned with bejeweled combs. Everything about the woman was regal.

"It's perfect." Sansa turned again toward the mirror for one last glance. "You certainly know how to compliment _my_ figure."

Cersei lifted a strand of Sansa's long, loose hair and let it slide through her fingers. It was as smooth and fine as the silk in Sansa's dress. "Such a shame," Cersei crooned. She examined Sansa closely, not happy with the finished product. "We're almost out of time, but I could add a couple of simple plaits," Cersei said. "At least that will give you a more feminine look."

Sansa smiled shyly and sat where Cersei directed. As the woman deftly wove Sansa's auburn strands into intricate ropes, she fawned over the younger woman's flawless ivory skin and glowing complexion. It all made Sansa rather self-conscious, but she was flattered.

When she was done, Cersei instructed Sansa to twirl and model for her. Sansa spun slowly in a circle, elated by the way her hair and dress felt as they cascaded against her skin while she turned.

"How do I look?" Sansa asked, heart pounding and cheekbones soaring. She couldn’t help herself. "I'm so excited," Sansa admitted.

"And you should be, Little Dove. You are the perfect picture of a true Lady. Not quite a princess yet, but perhaps we will remedy that on another day when we have more time."

"Little Dove? Why did you call me that?" Sansa asked.

Cersei stood back with her hand propped under her chin and lovingly admired her latest project. "Because, my dear, unlike you, I have lost my youth. But everything about you, tsk tsk, is as soft and smooth as the coo of a dove."

"Thank-you, Cersei." Sansa regarded her new plaits in the mirror. Cersei had worked so quickly managing to produce finely woven strands that looked as though they'd been stitched with knitting needles. "I can't wait to see what you do to my hair next time."

"Off you go," Cersei said, checking her watch. She waved her hand to shoo the Little Dove out of her rooms. "It's almost time."

A nervous tingle quivered over the surface of Sansa's skin. She knew she would be just fine, but still, Sansa was going to be the center of attention. All eyes would be on her, following her every movement, listening to her every word.

Sansa took a deep breath and fortified her self-confidence as she strode down the main hall of the Red Keep. There was nothing to be afraid of, she reminded herself. _She_ , after all, was a Lady, and _they_ were the common folk. If Sansa was going to get through this day, that's the way she needed to think of it.

"Hello, Sansa!"

Sansa turned to see Margaery Tyrell quicken her steps to catch up. The young lady was the same age as Sansa, but dressed very differently. Her dress appeared to be some sort of chiffon in light blue – very sheer and somewhat revealing. Sansa liked the way the light fabric flowed out around Margaery as she moved.

"Well! Look at you. Someone must have turned on the charm with Cersei." Margaery arched her eyebrows in dramatic emphasis. "She doesn't give the best dresses to just anyone." Margaery leaped in front of Sansa blocking her path. She thrust a hand on her hip and quirked her mouth to the side. "Please don't tell me you agreed to go out with Joffrey."

"Who's Joffrey?" Sansa asked.

Margaery waved a dismissive hand at Sansa as she turned back to the direction they'd been heading. "Oh don't worry. If you haven't met him yet, _you will_." Margaery whirled to walk backward in front of Sansa.

"Trust me when I say, he is definitely not someone you want to get involved with." She waggled a finger in front of Sansa. "Don't be fooled by his charm." At that, Margaery stuck a finger in her throat and pretended to gag.

"Did you go out with him?" Sansa asked.

"Once," Margaery said flatly lowering her brow. She turned again to walk beside Sansa. "Once was more than enough. Pompous ass did nothing but talk about himself _allllll_ night."

"I don't know how I'm going to remember everyone," Sansa said.

"There really aren't that many names to remember." Margaery saw the concerned look on Sansa's face. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a thorough who's who on everyone."

They continued down the long hallway until they came to a wide curved stone staircase. At the bottom was a grand foyer with a carefully detailed map of all of Westeros. Sansa listened to the hollow knocking of their shoes as they walked across it. The reverberating echo was eerie and musical.

Sansa was still in awe of how enormous the Red Keep was. She didn't think she'd ever get used it. As she looked around her at all the hallways and doors and endless rooms, she made a note to herself not to go off wandering lest she should become hopelessly disoriented and lost.

The sound of lightly clanking metal grew louder as they walked toward the entrance of the Keep. As they approached the intersection of another main hallway, they were met by an older man in full golden armor with a red cape and helmet clutched under his arm. His hair and beard were short and white. He was tall and strong despite his age, which Sansa guessed to be in his late fifties or early sixties.

"You must be Sansa." The man bowed graciously, a wide pleasant smile spreading across his face. "Barristan Selmy," he said. "Your servant and protector."

"Yeah, right." Margaery shook her head then mocked him with an ostentatious bow of her own. "Your servant and protector," she said mimicking his low voice. She threw her arm across her forehead and clutched dramatically at her chest.

Barristan rushed forward, grabbed Margaery and roughly planted a kiss on her lips as he bent her backwards. Margaery giggled, hammering her fists on his metal breastplate, trying to push him away.

"Okay, okay," she said, laughing, when Barristan finally relented. She grinned at Sansa. "You gotta watch out for this one," she said hooking a thumb over her shoulder at the knight. "He doesn't quite grasp the full concept of chivalry. Whore mongering, yes. Chilvalry, uh uh."

Barristan laughed. "Just don't tell my wife, okay?"

Sansa couldn't help but laugh with the two of them.

"But seriously, welcome to the Red Keep," Barristan said. He leaned forward and offered his hand. This time, he was very much a gentleman. Sansa shook it. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I think I've been here the longest."

"Um, no, that would be Tywin," Margaery reminded him.

Barristan hissed through his teeth. "Oh, right." He cocked a finger at Sansa. " _That's_ the one you gotta watch out for. He's a stickler for details. Well, ladies, I shall see you later. I have to get to the throne room. It's almost time." He stalked off down the hallway in a ruckus of clattering.

"We need to get going," Margaery said. "I'll introduce you to everyone else at lunch."

They quickened their step to a fast walk as they made their way to the front entrance. They stopped briefly to slip into the manager's office. Varys was waiting for them. Sansa had never seen a man dressed in what appeared to be a silk kimono, but the look was appealing on his short, squat shape. He was as bald as an egg and had a feminine flair about him.

"You're almost late." He raised an eyebrow in an attempt to appear scolding and severe, but somehow, his expression suggested approval.

"Very nice, very nice," he said looking the two young women over very carefully. He paid particular attention to Sansa. She wasn't quite as sexually appealing as Margaery, but considering the type of people she was about to deal with, her innocent appearance and girlish charm would be much more appropriate.

"Are you ready, Sansa?" Varys handed her a large sheaf of colorfully printed papers. Sansa took them and held them against her chest.

"I'm a little nervous, but I'm ready," Sansa said.

"You'll do just fine," Varys agreed, touching his finger lightly to the underside of Sansa's chin. "I'm aware that you're adequately prepared. Your reputation precedes you."

Varys handed another sheaf of papers to Margaery. "And you," he said with not nearly as much approval, "behave yourself. We had a few complaints from the wives and mothers last season."

Margaery's mouth twisted into a devilish smile. "Perhaps I would have been better as a wench," she suggested.

"Perhaps. Now go. It's time." Varys used a short, fat finger to shoo them away to the entrance.

The entrance to the Red Keep was barricaded by two enormous oak doors adorned with hinges, ring pulls, and locking bars of heavy iron. Margaery and Sansa quickly ran up to them and began to slide the latches to unlock the doors.

"Since it's your first day, I'll let you take the lead and welcome the people," Margaery said. Sansa gave a quick sharp nod. _I'm ready for anything_ , her expression indicated. They each grabbed a door handle and swung the doors wide to welcome the waiting crowd of tourists. Sansa stood in the middle of the grand hallway and spread her arms wide.

In a loud authoritative voice, she announced the beginning of the day.

"Welcome to Kings Landing Historical Park and Red Keep Heritage Museum."


	2. The Beauty In A Rainbow

"So, how was your first day?" Margaery asked. She ran down the broad main hall to Sansa. She was just as smiling and perky as she had been when Sansa had seen her at the beginning of the day.

"Better than I expected," Sansa said. "My tour group was so excited about being the first ones through the door since the re-opening that I could have told them we were in Pentos and they would have believed me."

The two turned down the secondary hallway. It was the same direction Barristan had come from earlier in the day. Near the end of the hallway, Margaery used her key card to open the large double doors marked "Staff Only" and they headed to the personnel locker room. The extra large lockers held the costumes, props, and accessories for each employee when not in use, and their personal belongings during work hours.

"Why didn't I see you at lunch?" Margaery asked, gathering her street clothes. She trundled in the direction of the changing booths. Sansa sat on a bench and began unlacing her high boots. The boots were modern and didn't even resemble appropriate historic footwear, but they were well-hidden under her long skirts. Besides, if she was going to spend all day on her feet, she wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

"Sorry, Margaery, I didn't have time. There was so much to see and I wanted to make some notes. I had a lot to absorb on my first day."

Sansa left her boots under the bench, rolled her street clothes into a bundle and stepped into the changing booth next to Margaery's.

"You want to come for a drink after work?" Margaery asked. "We're all going to The Crossroads. You can meet everyone there."

"Ooohh, I'd really love to but I have too much work to do. I have to make notes from my observations and there are a few rooms I want to go back and check out before I leave."

"Don't tell me you're going to be one of those Type A slave drivers," Margaery said through the booth wall. "Or are you just anti-social?"

Sansa listened as Margaery's booth door opened. "No, I really would love to go and meet everyone, but I have to get some notes and recommendations together for my meeting with Tywin and Varys at the end of the week." Sansa came out of her booth and joined Margaery back near their lockers.

"I'll meet everyone in the next few days anyway. I need to know how this place runs and what we'll need to change." Sansa carefully hung her dress on the padded hanger and placed it in her locker with the faux historic jewelry and her laced boots. She was now dressed more casually in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and running shoes. "You still going to give me the rundown on everyone here?" Sansa asked. She didn't want Margaery to think she was getting the brush off.

Margarey pointed a finger in her face. "Tomorrow. Lunch. Dining hall."

"Absolutely," Sansa agreed.

"Don't stay too late," Margaery said as she backed out the employee's entrance to the parking lot. "And don't go wandering off through the Keep and get lost." A ghost of concern drifted across Margaery's face. "Just be careful." Margaery forced a smile and waved as the door closed behind her.

At the far end of the main entrance hall, Sansa made herself comfortable on the circular bench. She withdrew her notebook from her canvas tote and opened it to a clean page. Her head bobbed as she jotted down some points of concern.

"This bench is so last century," she mumbled to herself. Last century was no good. The Keep had been restored to a period that was almost a thousand years old. "Last century" was too modern.

"And the House banners have to be rearranged." Talking out loud to herself helped Sansa feel more at ease. The lighting in the Keep had been turned low for the evening. The hallways and rooms were dark, eerie, and full of ghostly echoes that haunted her senses.

Sansa stood and wandered to the end of the hallway. The circular room was the center of the wide spiral staircase that led to the upper floors. When she looked down, she noticed that she was standing in the middle of the map of Westeros.

"No, no. That's wrong," she whispered as she scribbled in her notebook. The map of Westeros had been meticulously recreated in tiny mosaic tiles, but it was in the wrong place. The map was supposed to be in the war room. The war room was on one of the upper floors, an area that was supposed to be accessible only to the reigning sovereign and their top advisors.

Sansa tapped her pen on her teeth, carefully considering the map. "If the map was upstairs in the war room, the tourists would never get to see it. I suppose it will have to do where it is, but I'll discuss it with Tywin and Varys later."

Instead of going up the circular staircase, Sansa continued straight ahead through the wide entrance to the throne room. The room, she guessed, had to be as big as the football field at Winterfell University. Gigantic pillars, entwined with bas relief ivy, lined either side of the room. They were at least thirty feet tall as far as Sansa could see up into the dark recesses of the ceiling. The marble floor was inlaid with a large square tile pattern. At the far end, a series of low stone steps created a platform that spanned the width of the room. On top of the platform sat the Iron Throne.

Sansa ran down the Great Hall toward the throne. No one was here to see her behaving like a silly schoolgirl who'd been let loose in a museum at night. She hopped up the steps and positioned herself on the throne. She sat straight and waved her hand regally as though addressing her loyal subjects. That was where the fantasy ended. The throne was dreadfully uncomfortable. It was cold, lumpy, and too high for her feet to touch the ground. Whoever had recreated the throne had done an amazing job, but come right down to it, it was an _iron_ throne, not exactly comfy and cozy on her delicate posterior.

Sansa stood up and gazed around the room. The last historical records she'd seen indicated that the ivy had been removed from the pillars and replaced with massive iron spikes, but Sansa liked this better. The ivy was still a part of the Keep's history and it was much more inviting and colorful.

The late afternoon light through the impossibly tall stained glass windows began to shift casting prism colors of deep red, orange, yellow, green, and blue across the floor. It filled Sansa with warmth as the kaleidoscope of colors mingled and stretched across the marble expanse.

Skipping down the steps of the platform, Sansa ran amongst the radiant beams of light. "Dancing inside a rainbow," she whispered. Turning her face up to the last heat of the day as it streamed through the glass, her heart was suddenly filled with carefree, childish delight.

"Alright, enough is enough," she said to herself. "You've got work to do." As Sansa turned to go back toward the throne, the castle sighed. She abruptly stopped and listened, her ears tuned in to the smallest sound. The breathy whisper echoing among the pillars could easily have been dismissed, but she was positive she'd heard it.

Whatever it was, Sansa decided, it was bound to be a natural sound from the drafty stone building. Sansa didn't believe in ghosts, or so she told herself. She felt perfectly comfortable in this place, nothing had given her a sense of fear or uneasiness.

At the back of the throne platform to the left, there was a doorway that led to the council chambers. Historically, the rooms had been used by the Hand of the King – or Queen – but it was now used as the employee conference room. The rooms were still decorated in accordance with historical accounts, but also contained modern electronics and conveniences.

Sansa explored the contents of the room making notes as she went, head down, mumbling to herself. She passed through the doorway at the back of the meeting room into the personal office space of the Hand of the King, now used by Tywin. Beyond that was the rear hallway that would eventually lead to the dungeons, the storage chambers, the treasury room, and the armory of the Kingsguard.

As she stepped through the doorway into the rear hall, Sansa heard a very quiet but distinct sound. She stopped and listened carefully.

_Tick, tick, tick._

She waited for a moment, but didn't hear the sound again. It reminded her of the sound of Lady's nails on her kitchen tile floor – a sound she hadn't heard since her dog had died several years ago. It was probably just water dripping somewhere, or perhaps the stone of the castle walls shrinking as the air cooled into evening.

Sansa dismissed it as something natural and continued on. There was so much to see and it was all so fascinating. She scribbled away in her notebook, turning this way and that, admiring the décor and ancient atmosphere that seeped from the walls and floors.

Sansa checked her watch. She squinted, barely able to read the time in the dimness of the poorly lit hallway. It was time for her to be heading home. Tomorrow was going to be another long day, and she was already worn out from the excitement of this one.

Sansa turned right to go back to the antechamber that was just outside of the Hand's council room. But when she looked up, the new chamber she was in looked unfamiliar. Sansa realized she had made a wrong turn at the hallway outside of the Hand's office. She retraced her steps and turned left instead of right – and found herself in a part of the Keep she'd never seen before.

A nervous tingle crawled over Sansa's skin. She took a deep breath. She was okay. All she had to do was go back the way she'd come and retrace her steps until she saw a room or hallway that looked familiar. The problem was, she'd been so busy scribbling in her notebook, that she hadn't been looking at where she was wandering. Nothing looked familiar.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Sansa refused to let the sound send her imagination running wild. She stood and turned in a circle, looking for something, anything, that might give her a clue which way she should go. She recognized nothing. The damp coolness of the ancient stone sunk under her skin causing it to crawl in rippling waves. The Keep no longer felt like an adventure, but held the stale morbidity of the inside of a tomb. Her heartbeat began to thud. Her palms were sweating.

"Don't panic," she whispered to herself. But it was already too late. Sansa's head began to swim, her vision darkening at the edges. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight, pushing the panic down, away from her racing mind. Deep cleansing breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth did nothing to help.

A bolt of shock passed through her when Sansa heard a sharp scuff, like the sole of a shoe brushing across the floor. Sansa's eyes flew open wide. Her head whipped as she searched the dark corners around her, looking for a shadowy movement or a ghostly wisp. There was nothing there except the cold, musty stone and deep shadows of the castle walls.

Sansa trembled forcing her feet to move forward. She had no idea if she was headed in the right direction, but at least she was moving and not just standing there helpless and frightened. Sansa bit her lip and willed the tears away when she came to a set of wide, unlit stairs that descended into blackness. Sansa was positive that this was the entrance to the dungeons. She'd never been in this part of the castle and didn't know her way out from here.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Backing away from the dungeon stairs, Sansa ran in the opposite direction, fleeing blindly toward rooms and hallways that had more light, where she felt more of a presence of life. Overwhelmed with panic, Sansa felt the tears begin to ooze out and slide down her cheeks. She tried to hold her breath to a normal rate, but the urge to gasp wildly overcame her.

"Sansa."

Sansa froze in place, ears suddenly alert. She was sure she'd just heard her name, but logic tried to convince her that it was the sound of the wind through the drafty spaces. _It wasn't a ghost_ , she tried to convince herself, _it wasn't!_

"Sansa, you're not lost." The male voice was deep and throaty. This time, Sansa knew it wasn't her imagination.

"Who's there?" Her gasping was out of control. The wheeze in her chest made her lungs ache.

"You'll be fine. Take a breath and calm down."

"Who are you? Where are you?" Sansa asked, listening carefully. She couldn't locate the source of the voice.

"Calm down, follow my directions, and I'll lead you out."

"Are you a ghost?" She knew it was a silly, irrational question to ask, but she couldn't help herself. Sansa would have sworn she'd heard a chuckle.

"I'm not a ghost."

"Then who are you? How did you get in the Keep?" When there was no answer, Sansa turned in a circle. "Are you still here?" Her heart sped up a little at the thought that he, whoever he was, had abandoned her. At least, for now, he was a voice anchoring her to this world.

"I'm here. I won't leave you until we're back in the main hall," he said as though he'd read her mind. Sansa felt her heartbeat mellow slightly.

"Thank-you, but I still need to know who you are. Please show yourself to me. If you broke into the Keep I'm sure we can work something out."

"I didn't break in." The man cleared his throat. "I'm the caretaker."

Sansa searched the dark recesses around her, but she still couldn't tell what direction the words were coming from. The smooth stone walls camouflaged sounds turning them into echoes.

"I wasn't told of any caretaker. If you are the caretaker, then why can't I see you?"

"You can't see me because I don't want you to."

"Why?" Sansa closed her eyes and tried to decipher the direction of the man's voice. "And how did you know my name?"

"I have my reasons." He sighed. The sound was heavy and filled with regret. "I know your name because Tywin told me you might stay in the evenings for research."

"Tywin never told me about you. What's your name?"

"It's getting late, Sansa. Turn to your left and walk to the end of the hallway."

She wasn't sure if the man could see her, but Sansa crossed her arms and shook her head. "Not until you tell me your name."

"I'd prefer if you didn't mention me to the others."

"I won't." Sansa meant it. "What's your name?"

"Sandor. I'm Sandor Clegane." His voice dipped at the end as though he was ashamed to admit who he was.

"Thank-you, Sandor." Sansa nodded to the shadows. She did as she'd been told, turned to her left, and walked until she reached the end of the hall.

"Go through the door on the right," Sandor said. And then take the first short hallway to the left."

Sansa followed his directions. "I don't recognize any of this," she said.

"You made a big U-turn," Sandor explained. "This way is a shortcut."

A U-turn? How would he know unless … "Have you been following me all evening?"

"I was afraid you might get lost. Or hurt," he added. "The halls are dark. It's easy to miss a step."

"So that was you I heard earlier in the throne room?"

"Yes. Now turn here, to your right. Yes, it was me you heard in the throne room."

"So you saw me dancing in the stained glass light?" Sansa turned to face the shadows behind her where she presumed this Sandor guy was following and guiding. She hoped he could see the embarrassment on her face.

"Turn right. Go through the door at the end." His words were curt and rough.

Sandor had ignored her question. Sansa suddenly felt silly and childish. In the dark, her cheeks burned hot. A faint sweat broke out on her forehead. The man probably thought she'd been acting foolish and laughed at her.

Sansa followed his directions, head hung low and brow heavy. She shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched up her shoulders as she passed through the last doorway.

"Do you know where you are now?" he asked.

Sansa looked up and scanned her surroundings. She was in the hallway that led to the employee areas. At the end of this hallway was the door that led to the locker room.

"Yes. I know where I am. Thank-you." Even to her own ears, her quiet voice sounded flat and lifeless. She felt as though she was a child again and had just been scolded for behavior that was unladylike.

"Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't be embarrassed," Sandor said.

"I'm not!" Sansa whirled toward his voice. "What do I have to be embarrassed about?" She was always too quick to let anger cover her embarrassment. He had no right to make assumptions about her like that. He didn't know her and she didn't know him. The shadowy silhouette of a large man blocked the last doorway they'd come through.

"Dancing in a rainbow. You were beautiful." Shadow-Sandor turned and disappeared into the room beyond.

"Sandor? Wait, please." Sansa ran to catch up with him, but when she passed through the door, the hall beyond was empty.


	3. The Wall Have Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I wrote three chapters today so I thought the least I could do is share some of that wealth.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Sandor Clegane. Yes, he's the caretaker." Tywin stood behind his desk not looking at Sansa, but staring down at piles of important documents. He had little time for trivialities and he made sure to convey this to Sansa with stiff body language and a dismissive attitude. His lips were tightly pinched and his small, intense eyes were narrowed.

From the first time Sansa had met him, she'd thought of him as weasel-faced. Tywin seemed fair but strict. However, he'd given her quite a bit of leeway to do what she needed in order to bring the Red Keep to a more profitable level, all while making sure that the Keep remained historically accurate.

"Why wasn't I told about him? I should be aware of all the employees and their duties." Sansa stood on the opposite side of Tywin's desk. She planted her fists on her hips indicating that she had no intention of leaving until her questions were answered to her satisfaction.

Tywin took a deep breath and dropped a stack of envelopes onto his desktop. Leaning forward on his knuckles, he glanced up at Sansa, ogling her with mild irritation. "Sandor Clegane never comes in contact with anyone else, whether public or employees. Especially the public. There are only a few people who have knowledge of him. He is of no concern, I assure you." Tywin went back to rearranging the papers on his desk, but paused momentarily to flick his eyes at Sansa.

"How is it that you know of Sandor Clegane?" he asked, suspicious.

Sansa's cheeks turned crimson. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going last night and I got lost. Sandor Clegane led me out of the Keep."

"Did you see him?" Tywin narrowed his eyes to slits.

"No. He was just a voice in the shadows."

"Yes, well, it's best that way."

"Why is that? I asked him to show himself but he refused." Sansa paused but spoke before Tywin had a chance to answer. "Should I be concerned about him? He's not dangerous, is he?"

"No. He's not dangerous. You have no reason to concern yourself with him. I expect you to do your job and that does not include dealing with Sandor Clegane."

"You still haven't answered my question. You said it was best that I didn't see him. Why?"

Tywin lifted his chin and regarded Sansa like a mathematical problem. After a long moment, he turned his attention back to his desktop. "Don't you have a school group arriving in a few moments?"

**********

Actually, Sansa didn't have the school group. She had switched with Margaery for the private tour taken by the King's Landing Business Improvement Association. The KLBIA tour was part of a strategic marketing campaign to drum up support and advertising dollars for the museum. Given Margaery's penchant for flirting, they agreed it was best that they switch. Besides, Margaery was wonderful with children, but not so much with annoyed wives.

Tywin had made his point and Sansa had taken the not-so-subtle hint. His reluctance to discuss Sandor Clegane only made her more curious. And when it came to curiosity, Sansa was like a cat. Sansa would keep investigating until she got the information she was looking for. Or until it got her into trouble, which was far more likely.

Besides, there was something about the man that intrigued her. He'd only been a disembodied voice, but there had been concern in the tone of his words, his hesitancy, and his … what was it? Was it shyness that had kept him in the shadows? His voice had been so deep and soft and it had made the tiniest quiver go through Sansa.

And then he had called her beautiful. That had thrown Sansa completely off her guard. She had been embarrassed about enjoying an innocent moment of free-spirited fun, but Sandor Clegane had obviously enjoyed it, too. Had he been embarrassed about getting caught in his voyeurism? What kind of man would admit to a woman so openly and freely that she was beautiful? It felt awkward and clumsy.

However, he'd also recognized her embarrassment and told her not to be. Even the more sensitive men she'd dated had been mostly clueless as to a woman's emotional cues. But this Sandor Clegane had picked up on hers so easily. Did he really think she was beautiful?

The hair on the back of her neck crawled. The whole situation didn't feel creepy or disturbing in any way, but it was highly unusual. Especially compared to what she was used to. So, naturally, her curiosity had been piqued. How could any woman not be curious about that? She wanted to know more about the mysterious man and Tywin's subtle attempt at intimidation only served to deepen her resolve to find out more.

There was no reason for her to wait. Like a Rottweiler with a fresh ham bone, she was only getting started. Tywin and Varys would be expecting her to do quite a bit of research into the Keep over the next few weeks. That gave her more than enough of a cover story to hang out after work, do her research and stay a little longer than necessary. Maybe she could coax Sandor out of the stonework and get him to talk to her again.

**********

The private tour went well. Some of the members were skeptical, but when Sansa explained some of the possible ideas she had for the Keep Museum, the BIA members began to generate ideas of their own. Some of them were quite good, things that Sansa hadn't thought of, so she wrote them down.

The whole point of her research wasn't just to make the museum more historically accurate, but to find ways to increase its use and involvement in the community. Some of her ideas included sports and fitness programs that taught archery and medieval dancing, sword fighting – with wooden replicas, of course – a crafts program to teach candle-making, wood carving and other artisanal arts that were quickly disappearing. One of the daycare owners suggested haunted sleepovers for kids with activities and ghost stories. A party planner wanted to know if rooms within the keep could be rented out for birthdays, weddings, and other occasions.

_Yes! Yes! Yes!_ Sansa wanted to shout. But, of course, it would all have to be carefully considered by the Keep Museum council. There were matters of safety and liability to be considered. All they needed was for one child to get an arrow through the eye during archery, or a curious party guest to wander off and get lost in the dungeons never to be seen or heard from again. If that happened, the Keep Museum would be closed for good.

All in all, Sansa thought her tour was a great success and had obtained lots of insight to pass on to Tywin and Varys and the rest of the old cronies.

"Excuse me, young lady."

The tall, thin elderly man who had come up behind Sansa was dressed in blue-gray robes that were tattered around the edges. He reminded her of a monk. He raised a bony finger to point in Sansa's face.

"You're from the North," he stated emphatically shaking his arthritic finger at her. "You must pay heed to the gods. Be warned," he said. "Winter _is_ coming." Before Sansa had a chance to say anything to him, he turned and shuffled away toward the entrance of the Keep.

"Sansa! Are you ready for lunch?" Margaery ran to stand beside her.

"Did you see that guy, Margaery?" Sansa asked pointing to the old man.

"Oh, yeah, him." She waved away any concern. "His name is Luwin. He's an old homeless guy that wanders in off the street and tells everyone 'Winter is coming,'" Margaery said mocking the sound of his voice. "Don't worry about him, he's harmless."

He may have been harmless, but Luwin caused a very strange sensation to develop in the pit of Sansa's stomach. A sense of trepidation came over her, regardless of the fact that there was absolutely no reason for it. She chalked it up to hunger, ignored her gnawing intuition and joined Margaery for lunch.

**********

Most of their afternoon was free, so Margaery took Sansa on a tour of the Keep and introduced her to everyone. Their first stop was in the dining hall to grab some lunch. The dining hall was decorated with long wooden banquet tables in the style that would have been used hundreds of years ago. The décor was authentic and atmospheric despite the modern servery at the far end of the room. But even the stainless steel counters had been skirted with thin wooden overlays to give them an antique appearance.

The dining hall, kitchen, bakery and snack shop were run by a young woman named Gilly Craster. She oversaw the kitchen crew, but could always be found working alongside them, just as hard as anyone else. She was shy, but only for about five minutes. Sansa loved her quirky, crooked smile.

On their way out of the dining hall, they bumped into Osha Wilding. The head housekeeper was less than impressed about anything in general. Sansa got the feeling that she was someone you _didn't_ want to piss off.

In the Keep offices on the second level, Margaery introduced Sansa to Renly Baratheon and her brother, Loras Tyrell. They were the resident decorators and were responsible for historic acquisitions. All the ancient or replica furniture, the tapestries, décor, and other thousands of decorative details had been researched, bought, restored, and placed in the Keep by the two men.

"They're a couple," Margaery whispered when Renly and Loras got into a heated discussion over period fabrics. She winked at Sansa, smiled and excused themselves. Margaery had many other people to introduce Sansa to.

Next on the list was Samwell Tarly, who was engaged to Gilly. They were to be married in the coming summer.

"Just Sam," he said shaking Sansa's hand. Sam was short, rotund, and very pleasant. Sansa liked him instantly. Sam was the scribe, in-house research assistant and record's keeper. He organized and catalogued documents as far back as 800 years. Unfortunately, his organizing skills weren't as fastidious as those of Jaime Lannister, the accountant who was in the office across the hall. Jaime was the gods gift to women and he made sure everyone knew it. He was about as subtle as a male stripper at a bachelorette party.

On their way back to the locker room, the pair bumped into a few others to whom Sansa was introduced. They were a lively bunch that included other tour guides, shop attendants, special activities directors, and office staff.

"Margaery, do you know who is responsible for building maintenance of the Keep?"

"No," Margaery said, pouting.

"There must be a caretaker, isn't there?"

"I suppose, but the only maintenance people I'm aware of are Osha's crew in housekeeping." Margaery was clearly more interested in other things and changed the subject. Again, she asked if Sansa wanted to join them for a drink after work.

Sansa politely bowed out with the excuse that she had lots to do after work this week. In reality, she was itching to get back to the hallway past the council rooms, hoping that she might find the mysterious Sandor Clegane.

**********

Sansa sat at the computer desk in the council chamber typing out all her notes from her tour with the BIA group. She also wanted to gather some research to back up her ideas for the programs she would present to the Board and also the ideas that the BIA group had mentioned.

She was typing as fast as her fingers would allow so that she could turn her mind to other matters, namely, Sandor Clegane. She didn't want to stay too long tonight, but she did want enough time to try and locate the man and hopefully have a conversation with him.

Sansa didn't have to wait very long.

_Tick, tick tick._

Sansa's head popped up and she looked around the room. There was no indication that anyone else was around. No other sound, not a shadow, nothing.

"Sandor? Is that you?" Her voice reverberated off the smooth stone.

_Tick, tick, tick, scuff_.

Sansa's shoulders dropped. She used her foot to push the computer chair away from the desk. The sound of the chair wheels was amplified in the large open space, reminding her of a train on an uneven track. When the sound died away, she stopped and cocked her head, listening.

Silence.

"Sandor, I know you're there. I heard you."

After a long pause, he asked, "Why are you here again tonight?"

"I have work to do. I'm making notes for a meeting." She turned in the chair looking for signs of the caretaker but didn't see any. "You'll notice I didn't go off wandering tonight."

"I'll call the Westeros Free Press."

Sansa detected a snarky, irritated tone in his voice.

"How are you?" Sansa asked. She hoped the question would set the conversation in a good direction.

"Why do you care?" His tone was off-kilter as though it was his intention to come across as mean and gruff, but the result was closer to insecurity.

"It's a commonly accepted way to greet someone with whom you're not familiar." Sansa tried not to sound superior or condescending, but she bit her lip and hoped he'd continue talking to her.

Sandor snorted. "I told you not to mention me to anyone."

"I didn't." Sansa thought for a moment then bobbed her head to the side. "Well, I asked Tywin about you, but you were the one who mentioned him first, so I had to assume that would be okay. I didn't ask anyone else about you."

"Yes, you did," he grumbled. "You asked Margaery if she knew about a caretaker."

"Yes, but I didn't mention your name. I just wanted to find out if she knew –" Sansa gasped. "Wait just a minute! Were you listening to my conversation with Margaery?" She stopped to think about where she'd been in the Keep at that time. "How could you possibly have heard that?"

Sansa waited but Sandor didn't answer. She got up and walked toward the door that led to the rear hallway but stopped in the middle of the room. "Sandor? Are you still there?"

"Yes." His voice was low and soft.

A thought suddenly came to Sansa. "Sandor, why are _you_ here tonight?" she stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed. "I'm not lost. I was minding my own business in here doing my work. You obviously followed me through the castle today. Have you been standing there the whole time I was at the computer?"

"I … I like to keep an eye on things when there's someone here at night. It can be a dangerous place if –"

"But I was _here_. At the computer. I wasn't wandering around." Sansa waited but Sandor remained quiet. After a few minutes, Sansa pulled a chair out from the conference table and sat down facing the door to the rear hall. It was the direction she presumed Sandor to be.

"Sandor, I'd like to get to know you a little. Can we talk?"

"Why do you want to get to know me?" he asked.

"I like to get to know all the employees I work with."

"We don't work together. I don't work with anyone."

"You're an employee, aren't you? You're responsible for taking care of this place. Therefore you and I will be working together, sort of. I get the feeling that you know this place better than anyone."

"What makes you think that?"

"I know there are secret passages in the Keep. That's the only way you could have heard my conversation with Margaery without me seeing you."

"Well! Let's give the Little Dove a big round of applause. You're a smart one, aren't you? Figured it out all by yourself." Sandor's voiced rumbled loud and rough. He was either pissed off or embarrassed that he'd been figured out. Likely both.

Sansa bolted to her feet, fists at her sides. "You've been spying on me since the first day I got here! Cersei called me Little Dove. Once!" Her face burned with contempt.

Footsteps scuffed across the floor followed by a muffled thud. Sansa imagined Sandor backpedaling into the wall like a cornered mouse. Sansa calmed herself down and returned to her chair.

Keeping her voice soft and pleasant, Sansa asked, "Sandor, why won't you let me see you?"

"I told you. I have my reasons."

"Would you at least let me know where you are so I don't feel like I'm talking to a ghost?"

Sansa waited while Sandor considered her request. Just when she was about to give up, Sansa heard a click. Mellow, diffuse light glowed into the room from behind her. Sansa scraped the legs of the chair as she moved to look behind her. In the corner was a doorway to a corridor that led around the far side of the throne room. Sandor had turned a hallway light on and stepped in front of the light source casting a very tall shadow on the wall beyond it.

"Are you as tall as your shadow?" she asked knowing that it might just be a trick of the light.

"Six foot seven."

Her stomach tingled and her heart thumped. The man was massive and he had a soft, deep voice. And judging by his perfect shadow, he didn't look like the Hunchback of Braavos. So why didn't he want her to see him?

"Sandor, have you followed me home, too?" Suddenly she had doubts about Tywin's claim that Sandor was not dangerous. Why else would her boss want her to stay away from the caretaker?

"No. I'm not like that. And I don't leave the grounds of the Keep."

"So, should I be worried?"

"I just told you!" he bellowed. Sandor's shadow went rigid. When he spoke again, he had calmed down. "I'm. Not. Like. That," he said, carefully enunciating every word.

"Then why have you been following me around here?"

"I … I wanted to see you." His words were quiet and tentative. "I know all the others. I wanted to know more about you." The softness of his voice made Sansa stop and think. Warmth flowed over her skin as she recalled his final words to her the night before. The nervous tingle in her belly grew to a flutter.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked cursing herself inwardly as soon as the words were out of her.

The hallway light clicked off. Sandor's shadow disappeared.


End file.
